


i'm here without you (but you're still on my lonely mind)

by Remy (iamremy)



Series: one thousand miles per hour [1]
Category: Need for Speed (Movie 2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/Remy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple of days after Finn leaves for Detroit, Joe arrives at Benny's with a bottle of Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm here without you (but you're still on my lonely mind)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a roll, holy shit. Apparently being sick af does wonders for your productivity.
> 
> Title from _Here Without You_ by Three Doors Down, I literally have no idea how to name shit without using song lyrics.

The doorbell rings, and Benny abandons his computer to open the door, only to find Joe standing there, holding a bottle of whiskey and looking absolutely miserable. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment otherwise, standing aside to let his friend in.

“What's up?” he asks, once Joe is seated on Benny's old couch, still holding the bottle. His eyes are slightly red, and he looks a little drunk already.

“Wanna drink with me?” Joe asks in return, holding out the bottle. “Didn't feel like drinkin alone tonight.”

“Why drink at all?” questions Benny, but gets two glasses anyway. “If you wanted a drinkin buddy you coulda gone down to the bar.”

“Didn't wanna be alone,” mumbles Joe, setting the bottle on the coffee table and leaning back against the couch, his feet resting on the edge of the table.

“Okaaaay,” says Benny, drawing out the last syllable. “Get them dirty-ass shoes off of my table, first of all. Secondly, what the hell's goin on? You ain't much of a drinker unless it's a celebration, or somethin's up. I'm guessin it's the latter. Speak up.”

Joe sighs deeply, kicks his shoes off and puts his feet up on the table again. The entire gesture is so utterly reminiscent of Finn that Benny has to remind himself not to look around for his grin or wait for a witty comment – Finn's not here anymore and dwelling on memories and wishing he was around isn't going to change a damn thing.

Then again he's always lived alone, so the only time Finn's absence really stands out is when Benny's at the garage and there's no one blasting irritating pop songs on full volume, or annoying the hell out of Joe. Speaking of – that's probably why Joe's here, seeing as how he probably feels Finn's absence more acutely, seeing as how they lived together.

“You miss Finn,” Benny states.

Joe sighs again, and nods. “Yeah. My place feels... real quiet and it's drivin me insane.” The corners of his mouth are pulling downwards, and he's got his fingers knotted in his lap, staring down at them as if they hold the answers to everything. Benny gets the feeling that Joe's not really telling him the whole of it, but whatever. He knows better than to coax it out of Joe – it never works. Better to provide company and be with him, and if Joe wants to talk he'll do it on his own time.

“Look at me,” snorts Joe. “It's just been a fuckin day since he's been gone, and I'm already a mess.”

Benny looks sideways at him. “Well, you did live together, so it makes sense that you're gonna miss him. He kinda left with no warning.”

“Yeah.” Joe reaches for the bottle and pours a little into both glasses. He downs his in one go, grimaces and then says, “You know him. He can't handle it when things go to shit, he's gotta get away.”

Benny takes a sip from his own. “Except this ain't gettin away for a little bit, is it?” he questions. “He packed a whole shitton of his stuff and withdrew all his cash from the bank. Seems a bit more permanent, doesn't it?”

“He might come back,” mumbles Joe, but it doesn't sound like he believes it himself.

“Or he might not,” Benny points out. “Look, man, I miss him too, ya know. Especially right after Pete and Tobey... it's hard, man, I get it. But you've gotta accept he might not come back. You said it yourself, he can't handle it when things go to shit.”

Joe thumps his head against the back of the sofa. “Ain't that the fuckin truth,” he says bitterly. “I've got half a mind to just go after his ass, ya know? Find him and bring him back. Only thing is, I've got no fuckin idea where he's gone, and he's not gonna tell me, that's for sure.”

“Hey man, he's an adult, he can do whatever the fuck he wants,” Benny says. “And we can't do squat 'bout it. He'll come back if he feels like he can, and that's the truth of it.”

Joe snorts again, and pours himself some more whiskey. “The hell are you playin devil's advocate for?” he asks. “I came here for company, man, not to hear ya be a downer.”

“Well, I ain't about to pamper your ass and tell you shit that ain't true,” Benny replies. “So suck it up, Peck.” He takes another sip. Unlike Joe, he has no wish to drown himself in alcohol, at least not on a work night.

There is a silence following those words, during which Joe manages to get another quarter of the bottle down. He's nearing full blackout drunk, his movements lethargic, words slow and slurred when he speaks them.

“I really fuckin miss him,” he says finally, and he sounds absolutely fuckin miserable. Benny knows he'd never even say this much if he wasn't drunk. Joe's notoriously closed off, and no one can make him say a word he doesn't want to. Well, no one but Finn, that is.

“We all do,” Benny says warily. This is the point where either Joe will go on and let out what's on his mind, or he'll close up, drink himself into a stupor and then for the rest of his life pretend none of this ever happened.

“No, you don't get it,” Joe says emphatically, waving his hand about and nearly knocking the bottle off the table. “It fuckin _hurts_ , man, everywhere I see it's somethin that reminds me of him and I can't get him off my mind. It hurts like a bitch. And I dunno if he'll ever come back, or if I'll ever see him again, and I dunno what to do with myself anymore.”

That's the most that Joe's said since Pete's funeral. Benny isn't sure how to handle this. Joe Peck isn't good with emotions, everyone knows that, and none of them have ever had to deal with him on a feelings rampage. Not for the first time, Benny wishes Finn were here. He'd know what to do with Joe. Then again, if Finn were here, Joe wouldn't be wasted and ranting about his feelings anyway.

“Ya know there's somethin seriously unhealthy about how attached you and Finn are to each other,” Benny mumbles, setting his glass down and moving the bottle out of Joe's reach. It's half empty now. Joe's going to be having the worst hangover ever anyway. Benny doesn't want to risk alcohol poisoning on top of everything either.

Joe snorts. “Fuckin tell me 'bout it,” he slurs. “Ya know I can't sleep? I can't turn my fuckin mind off, man, every time I close my eyes I start thinkin of him. It's such – such _bullshit_.”

Benny blinks. Well, so much for unhealthy. There isn't even a line anymore – Joe's leaped across it and gone flying into no-man's-land. Benny doubts Joe even knows what his feelings for Finn are anymore, can't distinguish between something platonic and something... more.

“D'you think I should call him?” wonders Joe. “Be nice to hear his voice again.”

“You can try, but I doubt he'll pick up,” Benny tells him. “In any case, man, you're drunk. If you wanna talk to him, you might wanna do it when you can think straight. You don't wanna end up sayin something you'll regret.”

“You think he'll know anyway? That I miss him?”

“I got no doubt,” Benny assures him. “He probably misses ya just as much as you miss him.”

“So why'd he leave then?” demands Joe. “If he knows he's gon' be lonely, and so'm I, why'd he fuckin _leave_?”

“You said it yourself,” Benny tells him patiently. “He's always been this way. He'll leave, get his shit together, and he'll come back if he wants to. He always does. Eventually.”

Suddenly Joe reaches out and grabs Benny's wrist. “Shit,” he whispers, and Benny raises his eyebrows at him.

“What is it?” he prods when Joe doesn't say anything more.

“Benny, I think...” Joe goes silent again, like he's thinking. Then, to Benny's surprise, a tear falls from his left eye and slides down his cheek. “Never mind,” he mutters, releasing Benny's wrist. “Forget it.”

“No, tell me what it is,” Benny says firmly. “You can't just sit there and _brood_ , ya hear? You've said a shitton already, man, might as well let it all out. What's goin on in that head of yours?”

Joe sighs, his breath ragged. He wipes away the single tear with his sleeve, and then looks directly at Benny. “Man, I think... this ain't right, man, I can't make sense of shit inside my head. This ain't normal, is it, me missin him this much? It feels fuckin _painful_ , man, it ain't right...”

“What're you saying?” asks Benny, holding Joe's gaze. “Joe, spit it out, man.”

“I think I'm in love with him,” Joe breathes. “I think I mighta always been. It makes sense, don't it? Why it feels like I can't be alright when he ain't around, and why I can't get him off my mind.”

There is a silence, as Benny processes all of this. It's not a surprise, not really, because he's found himself giving the matter a lot of thought more than once, and really, it's kinda obvious if you knew what to look for. He's not even surprised that none of this bothers him. “Took you long enough,” he finally says to Joe.

“Yeah, well,” says Joe bitterly, “what's the fuckin point? He ain't here. He's never gonna know, is he?”

Benny doesn't know what to say to that. Everything that he says will be a lie anyway. He can't tell Joe that Finn might feel the same way, because neither of them know that. He can't say that Finn might come back and it'll all be okay, because they don't know that either. The truth is that it's just the two of them now, sitting on Benny's couch well past midnight with a bottle of Jack, and that's all there is to it. That's all it will be, with Pete dead and Tobey in jail and Finn gone. They're not the crew anymore. They're just broken pieces of what used to be a whole, and they'll always be incomplete.

“So that's pretty much it, isn't it?” Joe says, and he sounds remarkably clear, like the confession has cleared up the fog in his mind a little. “It's just you and me, and I'm in love with someone who I might never see again. And that's how it's gonna be now, isn't it?”

Benny sighs. He wants so much, _so much_ , to tell Joe he's wrong, that it's not going to be like that, but he honestly can't find it within himself to say it, not when he doesn't believe it either.

“Might as well get used to it, then,” Joe says, and he sounds so desolate that it hurts Benny just to hear. “It's just you and me now, man.”

“You're sayin it like Finn and Tobey'll never come back,” Benny says quietly. He gets that Joe's drunk and probably doesn't mean half of what he says, but it still sucks to hear it.

“We got no idea when the fuck Tobey'll get out, and Finn might as well be gone too,” Joe says. “Fuck it, man, what's left? You know we can't run the garage on our own. Pete's – Pete's dead, man.” Joe's voice cracks. “He ain't ever comin back.”

And fuck, there it is. The words they've both been avoiding since the fucking funeral, and Joe's gone right on and said them. For a moment it seems like Benny can't breathe, and Pete's death has never seemed realer, not even at the funeral. It _hurts_ , every single thing about this hurts now, and Joe's right, it's never going to be the same, and it feels like nothing will be okay again.

Still, he can't be the one falling apart right now. Joe's doing enough of that for the both of them. “Just... just hang in there,” he mutters, even as he knows how utterly hollow the words are. “It could be worse.”

Joe laughs mirthlessly. “No, it couldn't.”

Benny doesn't know what to say to that, so he just remains quiet. He can't even bring himself to turn his head and look at Joe, who's breathing heavily in the way that indicates that he's trying his best not to break down and cry right there, and shit, fuck, if _Joe_ is this broken up to the point where he can't keep it in anymore, what chance does Benny stand? Optimism is all well and good if there's something to base it on, but there really isn't. They used to be inseparable, a single soul in five bodies, and now it's just him and Joe, sad and broken and alone.

And the worst part is that this time a week ago they were all here, and they were all together, and it's all gone downhill so fast that it leaves Benny reeling. No wonder Joe's getting drunk. Fuck that it's a work night.

Benny reaches out for the bottle, but on the way his arm knocks into Joe's and when Joe doesn't respond he realizes Joe's passed out, his head lolling on the back of the couch, mouth slightly open. He sighs to himself, shakes his head, and gets up, grabbing Joe's arms and torso and dragging him sideways so that he's lying down, his head on a cushion. Benny pauses, frowns, and then turns him on his side so that if he throws up he won't choke on it. How utter _shit_ would it be if he woke up to find his last remaining pal dead?

He fetches a spare blanket and drapes it over Joe, and takes the glasses and bottle of Jack to the kitchen. He puts the glasses in the sink, and sits down at the small table with the bottle. He stares at it for a few seconds, deliberating, and then reaches for it and takes a gulp, his first of many until the bottle is empty and he's asleep slumped over the table.

* * *

Joe doesn't remember anything the next morning, even though Benny does. He never brings it up, though, knowing that maybe it's for the best that Joe doesn't remember. And sometimes, when it's just him alone in his apartment, lying on his bed and looking up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, he wishes that he didn't remember, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback pls
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr.](http://chester--bennington.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Love,  
> Remy x


End file.
